So we've all played Marry Boff Kill. The rules are so simple, I'm pretty sure there are monkeys out there playing it and actually making pretty rational decisions. You pick who you want to marry, who you want to boff, and who you want to kill. It's incredibly addictive, and soon you'll be Marry Boff Killing people on the street. (Hopefully not literally.)
Today's round of Marry Boff Kill will involve me pitting hunky (spunky?) 90s heart-throbs against one another in the ultimate game of love, lust and, uh, brutal death. Feel free to play along yourself -- everyone has a different idea on who to marry, boff or kill. It's what separates us from the animals. Except, of course, the monkeys.
Marry: Steve Sanders. Oh, the adventures we'd have as a married couple! We'd cruise around in the 'Vette, exchanging eggs and avoiding crafty Palm Springs trannies. And we would throw the best dinner parties.
Boff: Brandon. It was a toss-up between him and Dylan, but Brandon won out in the end because I find him slightly better looking. As long as he doesn't ruin the mood by talking about politics and how much more his parents loved him compared to Brenda.
Kill: Silver. Like you didn't see that one coming.
Marry: Jordan Catalano. Admittedly, I would eventually grow weary of his aloofness and insensitivity, but the 'boff' option means that I'd only get to do him once. And for someone who looks like Jordan Catalano, the only way to boff him is repeatedly. Repeatedly and often. So marriage it is.
Boff: Rickie Vasquez. Yeah, I'm not really sure how it'd work, either, considering that he's an out and proud friend of Dorothy. Maybe he's having a bad day and feeling really bad about himself, or maybe we're trapped in a snow cave and need to create some body heat, I don't know. I really haven't thought this through.
Kill: Brian Krakow. You know you're going bad when I'd rather boff a gay guy with absolutely zero sexual interest in me than you, Brian Krakow. Your death will be painful.
Marry: Pacey. Because Jesus, you guys, it's Pacey! Pacey's awesome! He's funny, he's handsome, he has a freakin' boat and his own convention! Plus, my fantasy brother-in-law could get me out of speeding tickets.
Boff: Jen. Don't look at me like that! I couldn't very well say Jack, now could I? I've already filled up my gay boff quota with ol' Rickie up there. Who else am I going to boff? Dawson?
Kill: Dawson. Hopefully he'll make his crying face.
Marry: Spike. Sure, he's evil a lot of the time, but who isn't in Sunnydale? We'd have to fix up the crypt a little, but nothing a trip to Ikea couldn't rectify. Plus, I wouldn't have to cook for him.
Boff: Angel. Actually, that could end badly...
Kill: Xander. I feel like he'd think he was funnier than me. That just really doesn't work. Plus, he had the syph, so I'm not letting him anywhere near my lady business.
Boff: Daniel. Preferrably on Lindsay Weir's bed while her teddies watched from the floor.
Kill: Ken. I really, really want to kill Sam, but I thought I'd just stick with the freaks on this one. PS: This is one of the only times I'd ever choose to kill Seth Rogen. I have an inexplicable crush on him, but Nick and Daniel are just too damn delicious. Them's the breaks, Rogen.
Marry: Brad. Tall, blonde, cool -- dude has it all. As long as he doesn't have that awful Backstreet-Boys-meets-a-buzzcut hair he used to have going on. That's a dealbreaker, ladies.
Boff: Randy. He's kind of a smarmy dick, though, which is why I went for the boff and not the marry.
Kill: Mark. I almost put him down as a sympathy boff, simply because nobody liked Mark and I feel sorry for the guy, but I just couldn't pass up an opportunity to fantasy lay JTT.
Marry: Uncle Jesse. Oh God, Uncle Jesse. Mullet, non-mullet, family man, non-family man -- any which way, I would marry him. Just as long as we didn't have to live in the Tanner's attic. Have mercy!
Boff: Steve. I was looking for a way out of boffing Danny Tanner, and Steve seems like a sensible option. I think he'd really appreciate it, too, considering DJ wouldn't let him touch any part of her body that didn't have fingers.
Kill: Uncle Joey. By stabbing. With a rusty knife. Repeatedly. In the face. And maybe a couple of times in the junk. And I might also let Comet eat his remains while he was still alive, a la Mickey Rourke in Sin City.
Marry: Slater. Okay, so he's kind of an a-hole, kind of a mysogynist. But he's also kind of totally ripped, and if Jessie "I'm So Excited" Spano can handle him, I'm sure I could.
Boff: Zach. Yes, he's an absolute dreamboat, but I'd get too sick of his bullshit to be married to him for any lengthy period of time.
Kill: Screech. Because seriously, fucker's had it coming for years.
Your turn!! Go forth and Marry Boff Kill 'til your heart's content!